


Sunshine

by nyctigamous



Category: Glass (2019), Split (2016)
Genre: Dancing, Domestic, Dreams, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Living Together, Past Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 21:56:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17989226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyctigamous/pseuds/nyctigamous
Summary: Sometimes things just grow out of control. Sometimes you've got to let them to.In which Barry and Casey might be a little more than just friends.





	Sunshine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rachdubs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rachdubs/gifts).



_His muscular palms are sliding up her thighs, lifting the material of her skirt with a smooth motion. She can feel his hot breath on her neck as he slides his tongue down to her collarbone, biting her there, earning a soft gasp from her lips, an involuntary buckle of her hips against his._ __  
__  
_She calls his name when his thumb reaches the apex of her thighs, grazing it gently, and leans into the touch, aching for more._ __  
__  
_"Barry."_ __  
  
"Casey?"  
  
A soft murmur, a gentle knock on the hardwood of a door, and the jolly chirping of birds right outside of her window lift Casey from her deep slumber, and she blinks heavily, waiting for her eyes to focus. The girl looks at the man in the doorway and gives him what she hoped wasn't a loopy smile.  
  
She does her best not to think of his hands on her, not to think of the dream, tries not to let a blush come over her whole.  
  
This isn't the first time she's having them, so it's not as hard anymore. It's hard to look him in the eyes, though. And she hopes to _god_ she didn't moan in her dream.  
  
"Good morning, sweetheart! I didn't realize you were sleeping in today, I'm sorry if I woke you up." He tells her, smiling from ear to ear, as joyful as ever, if only a little apologetic.  
  
"It's okay, Barry, it's probably about time I wake up anyway." She starts, and as soon as she sits up, the girl notices a tray in the man's hands. "What are you..? What is this, breakfast in bed?" She laughs when Barry winks at her and wiggles his eyebrows.  
  
"Exactly right, my dear! Oh, you are so lucky, the pancakes this lovely morning are _divine_ ." He chimes while setting the tray on her lap, and she can't help but feel saliva filling her mouth at the sight of the food. She focuses her attention on Barry, while he seats himself at the edge of her bed, and looks at her.  
  
"Thank you. I'm flattered, really, but it's not even my birthday yet. Why?" She tries not to sound ungrateful and gives him a slight smile. She reaches for the mug of tea on the tray and gently blows at the steam.  
  
He gives her a playful tsk and rolls his eyes, and Casey can't help but stare as the sunrays fall on his long lashes and cheekbones, framing him in a golden blow. Something tugs at her chest, and she almost misses what Barry tells her next.  
  
"Oh, we just figured we oughta pamper you a little more, you know?" He brushes a loose strand of her off her cheek as he tells her so. She doesn't want to admit to herself how much the touch burns, a fragment of her dreams nestling its way to her mind. His eyes soften a little once he retracts his hand. "How are you feeling?"  
  
Ah. Well. Casey guesses that it does make sense that he's more worried than usual. It's been a year already since she has started sharing an apartment with Barry and the others, and a little over that since the long-winded trial against her uncle has started.  
  
She'd thought it would be a shut-closed case. She had the scars, the threatening messages, years of collected suffering, all sitting right under her scarred skin. Soon she found out, it wasn't so simple, people aren't as sympathetic as she thought they are. By now she has almost feels defeated in her hope for humanity. Casey still doesn't understand how anyone could protect a man such as her uncle, other than for deep, dark, insatiable greed. The thought makes her stomach twist.  
  
"Not good." She admits to him, not meeting his sky-blue eyes. "I've been missing class more because of all of this mess. Why can't they just admit that he's a piece of shit that needs to be locked away?" She looks at him then, worried that her rough tone would upset him, but his eyes are as caring and warm as ever, and it eases her a little. "I just want this to be over with." She whispers, not really having any more tears to shed, yet feeling absolutely defeated.  
  
Barry reaches out for her hand and squeezes it, assuredly. "I know, babygirl. We're here for you, alright? I'm here for you. Anything you need, just tell me." His smile is hypnotizing and almost addicting, so she gives a meek smile back to him. His touch on her hand warms her insides, and she almost yearns for it back when Barry stands.  
  
"I'm heading out to work now, sweetheart. I'm sorry I can't stay longer today, but if you need anything, I'm a text away, alright?" She nods at him happily, grateful for the constant and unwavering care he gives her. Her smile to him is earnest - and honest. He smiles back at her, a devilish smirk adorning his face. "Enjoy your meal!"  
  
He turns, then abruptly stops at the doorway. "Oh, and. Don't plan anything for tonight." And then, with a blown kiss, he's gone.  
  
The smile doesn't leave Casey's smile the whole time she eats. Truth be told, she does feel pampered by Barry - and the others. It took her a long while until she was able to accept their care without feeling overwhelmed, or flinching from the touch, or needing to run away from the situation and winding down in her room, but she always knew they all come from a place of caring. She feels lucky to have such support, and it's humbling.  
  
In current day, she is far more welcoming to their closeness. Especially Barry, one of the loudest and warmest out of all the alters. She feels closer to him than anyone else.. which brings a whole new train of thought to her altogether, and she gives out a defeated sigh, standing up to get dressed for class.  
  
As much as she didn't want to admit it to herself, her dreams are starting to become a problem. It's hard to look Barry in the eyes. Hard to contain herself when he touches her, having to fight against leaning into his touch, craving for more, and more; it feels like an endless well, a pit, of desire.  
  
Casey doesn't know how to deal with this. It troubles her.  
  
As per usual, however, she pushes it to the farthest back of her mind, grabs her backpack, and heads out.  
  
When she finally gets outside, she gazes at the deep blue of the open sky, and it reminds her of Barry. That is enough to give her the strength to move her feet forward.

* * *

  
By the time Casey's dragging her heavy feet to the door of their apartment, she's dreading whatever plans Barry has for them. She's tired, moody, and more emotionally depleted than a silver spoon.  
  
However, she is, yet again, surprised by her sudden change of heart, when the pleasing scent of food and a happy beat of the 90's pop smack her straight in the face, right after opening the door.  
  
She sees Barry working some wonderfully-smelling magic at the stove, humming to himself, swaying his hips to the beat. Casey feels happiness trickle into her tired heart at the sight. This is the kind of home she loves coming back to.  
  
"Hi, Barry." She calls, and bites down on her lip to contain herself when the man audibly gasps and turns swiftly, eyes wide and hand on his chest.  
  
"Christ, Casey! Be a little mouse, why don't you?" He laughs then, at his own little fright, feeling ridiculous. He brings his soft eyes to hers, "How was your day?"  
  
She feels comfortable enough to tell him the truth. "Tiring. Exhausting, actually. My head's a mess. But I'd rather be in class than in court, you know." She bites on her lip, a nervous tick that arises at the single thought of her worries. "What are you making? It smells so good." She tells him truthfully.  
  
Barry beams at her one of his heartfelt smiles, and her heart stutters a little at the sight.  
  
"Pasta! Your favorite, Case. But first, come on." He cleans his hands on his pants and stretches out his arms towards her, a warming welcome. Casey feels comforted by the gesture alone, yet somehow her steps towards him are hesitant.  
  
Casey feels truly at home when he envelopes his strong arms around her, and she can barely breathe when she feels his chest against hers. She feels a little guilty; this was supposed to be comforting. Instead, she feels dizzy from his scent, and it sends tension to collect in her stomach. She wants him to touch her, make her feel the electric current course through her, aches in her bones to feel his warmth. She doesn't dare think whether those feelings could ever be returned.  
  
Her insides coil when he leaves a chaste kiss on her forehead and looks up to him to give him a sincere smile. She feels unusually cold when she steps back.  
  
"I see the pampering doesn't stop with just breakfast, huh?"  
  
"Nuh-uh, honey." His wink at her is mischevious, and it makes a laugh bubble out of her all the same. "Sit down, sit down! It's almost ready, can't have our princess go hungry, this just won't do." He ushers her to the table, not letting her linger and keep him company or help.  
  
Casey settles down at the table, and soon after Barry serves the food. Her mouth fills as she sees it, and upon the first bite practically groans out of happiness.  
  
"Aha! That's something I like to hear." His smirk is less than innocent when she blushes a deep crimson, and points her fork at him.  
  
"You shuddup there." She tries to sound intimidating, but instead, she sounds like a hamster with its mouth full. She stares at his lips as he puts a glass of water to them.  
  
"Oh, princess, as you wish." And he theatrically scoots away a little after she threatens him with her fork once more, both of them bursting into laughter.  
  
After they finish eating, dishes pushed away, they sit and chat, listening to the music(she soon discovers it to be coming from her room).  
  
"God, I feel so full." She stretches as she says so, leaning against the back of the chair. "Thank you for the meal, Barry."  
  
She looks over to him, and for a moment, she notices Barry boring his eyes into her, a gaze she doesn't recognize, and it almost makes her feel nervous. He blinks then, the spell broken, clears his throat.  
  
"You're very welcome, babygirl." He tells her with a smile, but she can't help but feel a certain unease about it. She doesn't let it linger, though, so she leans in, and returns his earnest smile.  
  
There's a peculiar glint in his eyes as he leans in as well. "Alright, Casey. Let's go." She blinks at his words, and he promptly reaches out for her hand.  
  
"What? Where-" She gets dragged away from the table hastily. Barry leads them to her room, where he turns on her nightlamp. It illuminates the room in a warm hue, throwing shadows across the floor. The light notes of the music coming from the CD player on her cupboard are filling the room, and she must admit to herself: somehow, in some way, it feels more ethereal and serene than it usually does.  
  
"Babygirl, dance with me." His smile is blanketed in the falling shadows, but she can see it in his eyes.  
  
She feels hesitant and a little uncomfortable, fiddling with the edge of her shirt. Casey doesn't usually dance.  
  
"Oh, come on, honey." He reaches for the hand that's fiddling about, holds it tight. "You've nothing to worry about here." His smile is infectious, and so warm it snakes itself through her veins, into her heart.  
  
And as she gives in, they do. It's awkward at first, even if Casey knows all the songs by heart, but soon the elated rhythm and the catchy beat gets to the both of them. Casey follows Barry's confident moves and soon has some of her own; she laughs at his comments _"ooohh, girl!"_ and _"yeah, shake it!"_ , and god knows how many songs, minutes, or hours pass. She thinks that she doesn't remember the last time she had this much fun, as their bodies move in sync now, thinks that Hedwig would love to be here, too, but those are fleeting thoughts, ones that change as fast as one tune changes another.  
  
They're a sweaty mess when the next song comes, and when it does, it's a ballad. She's breathless as Barry pulls her close, their erratic hustling around changing into a slow dance.  
  
"We can't miss this one." He tells her warmly, wrinkles around his eyes, in a tone so low air catches in her throat, and she wraps her arms around his neck before she can even think.  
  
The song is soothing, Casey feels, but she barely hears it. She's caught in a net, in a wildfire, in an arduous stream; she's looking into his eyes, and she can't look away. She can feel him flush against her chest, feels it when he inhales and exhales, feels his hands hot on her waist.  
  
One of his hands leaves her waist, barely tracing its way up, and settles on her cheek. His eyes don't leave hers, and she feels his thumb tenderly stroke at the skin beneath it, almost loving in its touch. It makes her breath hitch. The motion doesn't feel friendly; it feels entirely intimate. Every single thought flies out of her mind, and for a moment, Casey's not sure what he will do.  
  
Barry swallows thickly, she blinks, he looks away; and like that, with the end of the song, the spell is broken, and they each take a tiny step away from the other. Breathing is hard for Casey, and now she feels the adrenaline passing, exhaustion taking its place.  
  
As much as they muster to dance afterward, it's not as energetic or as loud as it was at first. Fatigue settling into their bones, the smiles turning shyer, and the laughter quieting, both of them soon end up on the bed, each too tired to even get out of their clothes, the silence of the night switching out the music.  
  
"Barry." She whispers, edging between reality and sleep.  
  
"Hm, Case?" She hears him reply, in the same sleepy tone.  
  
"We forgot the lamp." She smiles upon hearing him grumble. She hears the sheets rustle and him fumbling to turn it off, and the light laughter that bursts out of her when she hears him mutter "damn lamp" makes her ribcage protest.  
  
He falls - literally falls - back onto the bed, this time much closer to Casey, and wraps his arms around her tightly, snuggling close.  
  
Casey feels so warm and safe that she falls into deep slumber the moment she closes her weary eyes.  


* * *

  
_"Casey.."_ __  
__  
_She feels his hot breath on her neck, in the valley between her breasts, above her navel. His palms are hot against her flushed skin, and she throws her head back when his tongue snakes itself into the right spot._ __  
__  
_She calls his name into the void, slipping, falling.._ __  
  
Casey wakes with a light jerk. Her skin feels heated; she's much warmer than she usually is.  
  
When she opens her eyes, the first thing she notices is the golden sunlight, enveloping the room, hiding all the shadows of the night beneath it. The birds are singing. It's a beautiful morning.  
  
Soon enough, in her drowsy state, she notices another thing - she's pressed against a warm body, one of which is staring at her, wide awake, with an indistinguishable expression. Casey raises slightly, propping herself onto one hand, and, as she is looking at the man before her, almost thinks it's one of the other alters. Until she notices her hand held in a firm grasp, thumb running gentle circles on her skin. Nobody touches her like that. Nobody, except Barry.  
  
"Good morning." She tells him, voice low and timid, still embarrassed from her dream, and not wanting to disturb the serenity of the morning.  
  
She hears him give out a soft "hm" in answer, and starts to feel nervous about the situation, not knowing what had happened to make Barry, the extroverted alter, so solemn.  
  
She feels his hand trace from her own hand to her cheek, brushing away a strand of hair just as he did yesterday, and the touch feels.. different. He lets it linger on her burning skin, and she feels as if she's struck by lightning, the arm she's balancing herself on almost giving out. She can't breathe as his hand travels from her skin to her hair, lightly tugging a strand between two fingers.  
  
The air around them feels charged, and everything falls silent. For a brief moment, she feels like she is still sleeping; Barry looks at her like that only in her dreams. There's something dark in his eyes, something tangible, something, she thinks, that can be mirrored right back at him from her own eyes.  
  
Hunger.  
  
She can feel her pulse in her neck, a strict, raging beat beneath her skin.  
  
He licks his lips before speaking. "You called my name." It is all he says, his voice deep and husky from having just woken up, making heat pool between her legs, and it's the way he says it that is telling. And she knows, she knows it; she is busted.  
  
She swallows and wets her lips, feeling herself start to shiver under his intent gaze. "Did I?" Her voice is barely above a whisper, yet so much braver sounding than she actually felt. Casey reminds herself to breathe, forces it, even. "Must have been just a dream." She tries to slip by, tries to play it cool, not entirely sure if she wants him to be convinced.  
  
Barry's eyes look hazed when he pushes the strand of hair behind her ear, unphased. "What have you been dreaming there of, hm?" He's never spoken to her like that, she's never heard this tone escape his lips before, he's never _looked_ at her like that, and she presses her thighs together, unable to stop them from trembling, unable to stop heat collecting between them.  
  
She doesn't entirely register when her hand reaches to his face, to trace the line of his lips, and her breath hitches, with an audible gasp, when they part for her, willing, submissive.  
  
Sometimes things just grow out of control.  
  
She leans in, feels his warm breath on her face.  
  
Sometimes you've got to let them to.  
  
Immediately, his hand plunges into her hair, cradling the back of her head. He responds to her, free yet submissive, giving her control, letting her set the pace, making her feel safe about her choice; about him. His other hand quickly reaches for her waist, pulling her closer, barely leaving any space between them. Her mind starts buzzing when she hears him groan softly into her mouth.  
  
She kisses him carefully, shyly almost, hands on his neck and chest, almost hovering above. Her mind is blanking out on her from being in control, she's unsure and inexperienced, so when she breaks for air, noting how flushed he looks, she nudges Barry softly, kissing his cheekbone.  
  
The pace changes in a blink, and she's pressed against the bed, Barry's tough body pinning her down, her hips meeting his hip-bone on either side. He's cupping her face in both of his palms, and the kiss is far different from hers, deeper, hungry. Insatiable. She sees sparks in the darkness of her closed eyes when his tongue slips into her, settling into a rhythm slow enough for her to keep up.  
  
She thinks about wrapping her legs around him, but feels almost overwhelmed by the thought alone. Instead, she presses into him, and lets out a gasp when his hips buckle into her.  
  
He parts from her then, both of them panting, out of breath, mad for the other, and he's boring into her with a look that makes her heart squeeze. The sunlight on his face makes him glow in radiance that almost makes her cry.  
  
"Are you sure about this?" His voice sounds strangled, worried, and her heart warms for him, opening up, like a flower, one small fragile petal after another.  
  
"Are you?" Her own voice wavers at the end, barely above a whisper, lighter than a falling feather. She's still unsure if this is reality; if her feelings could really ever be returned.  
  
"Oh, babygirl." He leans in, kisses her cheek, so tenderly that tears almost spill from her. "I have been, for a while." And his lips are on her again, and she's rendered breathless by the aching care in the kiss.  
  
She wonders if this is okay, wonders if they should be doing this. They're friends, right? She thinks of the way she truly feels about him, however, lingers on the way his touch makes her burn, shivering from the electricity coursing through her body, and she thinks, instead, _maybe more than just friends_ .  
  
Her hands wrap around the back of his neck as he goes south with his mouth, lavishes her neck and collarbone with a devilish smirk, earning strangled mewls from her when he bites and sucks, marking her gently, marking her his.  
  
She's shivering, almost violently, from her very core, when he clasps her hand in his, holds it close, kisses her palm, the inside of her wrist, not so much as blinking or tearing his gaze away from her.  
  
"Casey, baby, tell me if you need me to stop. Anytime, okay, babygirl? Anytime." He is serious and tender in his tone, holding her palm his cheek now, and when he leans down again, her mind is buzzing with nothing but _please don't stop_ .  
  
She doesn't know if she feels fully ready yet, but this is Barry, her best friend; the one that consoles her, comforts her, the one that sings to her in an awful voice, dances with her in the middle of the night, the one that draws her when he thinks she doesn't notice, the one who has _always_ looked out for her. This is the man she loves, and she's ready to give him everything she has.  
  
So when he lifts her shirt, she leans over and helps him take it off; when he pushes past the soft material of her bra and brushes against her hard nipples, she lets herself gasp and press against him, aching for more. She calls his name in a moan when he lowers himself to brush his tongue against her, sucking hard, but she doesn't miss the way his gaze eats her up, sending goosebumps down her spine, making her feel desired, encasing them into a small world of two people.  
  
Soon, with the garment discarded, Barry trails a slow road of kisses down her stomach, below her navel, and there's something coiling in her when he grasps the edge of her pants. Casey swallows hard, but nods at him before he pushes them down, along with her underwear, throwing it near the bed.  
  
The girl feels exposed, and it almost frightens her. But she doesn't focus on it, she can't, not with him looking at her like that, admiring her like she's a piece of art, looking as hungry as a pack of wolves in the middle of winter.  
  
He trails his kisses further, and she feels herself tense up against herself when he gently parts her legs. There's a pang of anguish she feels for herself for it. Barry, however, is above her eyes again, reaching out and stroking her cheek, leaving a caring kiss on her forehead; one just like he did yesterday, and so many times before, and it eases her.  
  
"I've got you, sweetheart." He whispers, low, into her ear, leaving another tiny kiss on her earlobe, and she feels like she's burning again, burning in all the places he touches her, burning for him. Casey stares at him, undoubtedly doe-eyed, as he trails kisses up her inner thigh, his palm sliding the one opposite.  
  
She doesn't tense up this time, oh no. She's full of anticipation now, fire burning inside her, and she bites her lip out of nervous habit. Barry smirks when he notices, and the smirk doesn't leave his eyes when his mouth closes over her heat.  
  
Her head falls back into the pillow with a thud, and she is _burning_ . She feels his tongue push past her folds and thrust against her clit, and she can't control her moans anymore when they escape her lungs, nor her hips as they twist against Barry's grip, nor her hands, as they shoot for his shoulders, grasping him by the shirt.  
  
She's begging, pleading with her moans, beckoning the scorching sensation to stop and to follow. She's pressing against his tongue, pressure and tension rising in her, her muscles clenching and straining against her.  
  
It is when she starts to see white that she feels like she's dying, him sucking at her clit after spelling out the names of all the alters on her, and falls over the edge, a low shout escaping her. She presses her thighs against his head, unable to control herself, and for a moment of clarity, she thinks that she's never felt like that before.  
  
He's hovering above her again, looking into her eyes, his left hand still composing her quivering thigh. She can feel him hard against her, and the thought of him being so close, separated just by a couple layers of clothing, drives her wild.  
  
"Should we stop here?" He asks her, leaning in to kiss her again, and she protests between the sweet kisses, tasting herself on his lips, tugging at his shirt, gently calling his name.  
  
"Barry, I need you." Casey breathes, completely mesmerized by the depth of her lover's eyes as he stares into her, and staring back, drowning in the deep ocean of blue, she feels, she knows it; he loves her. And then it hits her, it hits her hard, harder than a freight train, and she realizes it; he has loved her all along. It was always in the care, in his loving eyes, in the fleeting touches, the secret glances, and secret drawings. She feels her heart fill, a tide pulling over the shore, and words tumble out of her before she can even think.  
  
"I love you." And it's the most earnest words she has spoken in her entire life, the closest she ever came to opening her whole self open, the flower in full bloom.  
  
There's a curt pause, filled with nothing but their breathing, and two hearts beating in unison, and Barry kisses her then, deep and urgent, filled with devotion and passion, yet as caring as the palm against her cheek, enveloping her in warmth; as gentle as the rays of the sun dancing between them in the room.  
  
"I love you, too." He whispers into her lips, deep cerulean boring into her, dark and warm, making her insides fire up. "I always have." She feels like she's drinking from the sea when his lips are on hers again, her heart swelling with blazing warmth.  
  
He looks at her then, lips pursed together, palm on her cheek. He's searching her eyes for something, and she knows what it is. She kisses him instead of saying anything, tugging at his shirt again, telling him she's ready, she's wanting, hoping he doesn't feel her hands trembling violently, hoping the past doesn't write stories on her face.  
  
She gulps audibly when he takes the shirt off, taking in his form. Her mouth is dry, and reality is suddenly hitting her harder than she would have liked it to. Barry smirks when he catches her staring, although she can see a blush creeping up his neck.  
  
"Liking what we see, sweetheart?" His voice is as smooth as silk at first, but it falters ever so slightly at the end, and she can tell he's just as nervous as she is.  
  
"You're one to talk." She fights back, remembering his hungry gazes, feeling a little too exposed again. She moves her hand to cover herself unconsciously, but Barry catches it and brings the palm to his lips again.  
  
"I can't help it, babygirl. You're just so beautiful." She blushes from how honest he sounds, and there's a low, rumbling chuckle in his chest when she looks away.  
  
A low yelp escapes her when Barry grasps her backside, pulling her closer to him. He looks at her, making sure she's okay, and she nods at him, shivering faintly. Both of them are stalling, nervous in their own minds, and Barry is slow in taking off his clothes.  
  
She stares at him still, almost star-struck, ridden with desire to touch him, to feel his skin on hers, to taste him. She almost feels embarrassed by her thoughts, by the way her cunt clenches at them, feeling slick with need, but the way Barry towers over her once he's done wipes everything off of her mind.  
  
Her breathing is shallow as he settles over her, guides his shaft to her entrance. She grasps him by his arms, and there's a moment where he hesitates, falters, so she takes the lead, and takes him in, letting him in to the hilt, locking her legs on his waist.  
  
There's a flash of pain, but it's more emotional than physical, and she revels in the way she feels stretched, filled with him, admires the way his lids flutter shut and he hisses.  
  
They both let the moment settle, gazing into each other's eyes, heaving, riddled with feeling. He whispers her name as he pushes out, and then back in, as tender as the first time, meeting home. By the third, she meets his hips with hers, and he settles into a confident pace, pressing closer to her, kissing her; it makes pleasure start building up, the fog of past memories clearing up, sunlight entering her mind, instead.  
  
He tells her he loves her when she wraps her arms around him, so close she can feel the rise and fall of his chest in an erratic pattern. He worships her with his hands, previous hesitance melting away, dripping down like wax, and she can almost feel the trails it leaves on her body. She feels so hot inside as he makes love to her, that she wonders if she will melt, too.  
  
Barry moves her hips, sheathing himself deeper inside, and it sends stars from the sky to her sight, making her claw at his back, desperate for more; his name, a mantra on her lips. He doesn't hesitate to fuck her harder at this, and she gasps and moans, feeling herself coming close to the edge. The man pushes his hand between them, finding her clit, circling it with this thumb, and he calls her name again, lovingly, sweetly.  
  
And her body gives in to him, convulsing around his cock, a wave pulling over her, grasping at him as a straw before drowning, before losing it entirely. Barry spills into her after, rough strokes filling her, and his head falls to her shoulder, both of them panting against each other's chests, fighting for air.  
  
She strokes the back of his head while they're both collecting themselves. He asks if she's okay, with a smile that makes her insides soften, and she kisses him in response again, relishing in the way his lips feel against hers, wanting for the moment to never end.  
  
They lie in bed for a long time, enjoying the rest of the morning, fleeting touches and longing gazes; both taking in the twist of reality, the new truth: more than just friends.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! This particular piece is dedicated to the lovely Rachdubs, who was one of the biggest inspirations for this piece. I wasn't even sure I shipped this ship until I read her fic! Go give her a try and some kudos, fellas.
> 
> Also, domesticated setting fics are the best there is in this life, and my heart is full.
> 
> Until next time!


End file.
